


stop being such a (dick)

by peterandhispirate



Category: Twenty One Pilots, joshler - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Explicit Language, Fuckboy!Tyler, Homophobic Language, Josh's natural hair, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Physical hurt/comfort, Save me from this hell, Slurs, nerd!josh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 12:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7574404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterandhispirate/pseuds/peterandhispirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Josh wanted was to get involved with Tyler Joseph or his snapback-wearing buddies.</p><p>But here we are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stop being such a (dick)

**Author's Note:**

> i have officially descended into high school au hell, wish me luck :')

Josh Dun knew a lot of things.

There are one-hundred-eighteen ridges on a dime. There are ten-billion galaxies and in those galaxies are one-hundred-billion stars. The core of the Sun is twenty-seven-million degrees Fahrenheit.

Despite all of this (and much more), he still couldn't comprehend why Tyler Joseph stared at him with this stupid, puppy-dog look on his face whenever he passed him in the hallway.

Furthermore, he couldn't quite articulate why Tyler would get all flustered and turn back to his friends whenever Josh met his eyes with an inquiring expression.

It was so un-Tyler Joseph that Josh was left with thousands of unanswered questions.

Neither Tyler nor his fuckboy friends had ever been particularly nice to him, anyway- shouts of "what's up, gay boy?" and "hey, how many types of STDs does a fag have?" still rang in his ears, along with the cackling laughs that followed.

So why all the tender stares and blushing and quickly looking away whenever Josh noticed both of the above? It didn't make an ounce of sense, and if he had half the boldness of Tyler himself, he would've confronted the asshole by now.

But alas, he didn't have that level of confidence: the kind where you can sass out teachers and wink at girls and talk above a mumble or whisper instead of occasionally saying something smart before curling in on yourself again.

Tyler Joseph really didn't know how lucky he had it, and it made Josh's blood boil. The guy was the proud owner of an audacious personality, but he used it to yell out things like "hey, fairy boy!" instead of telling his snapback-wearing goons to knock it off.

So why an asshole like Tyler seemed prone to stealing soft-eyed glances at Josh was really beyond him.

 

"Dun." A jab in the ribs with a pencil. "Dun." A series of pokes on the shoulder. "Hey. Josh?" Did this kid ever quit?

Josh sighed, mustered godly patience, and set down his book. "What do you want?"

"Well, jeez, I was just going to ask if you'd help me with something," Tyler huffed out; when he received a raised eyebrow in response, he continued, "I know we're not really, like, best buds or anything..."

"You're right. We're not. Very far from it, actually." Josh prayed that the teacher would walk into the room and start class so he wouldn't have to deal with any of the fuckboy's bullshit. "So why are you asking me, of all people, for help?"

A blink. Two blinks. "Well, I mean, you're kinda smart, right?"

"Kind of, I guess," came the weary response. "What's your point?"

"I'm not- I'm not doing so good in Economics," Tyler admitted in a strangled voice; Josh had never heard him sound distressed (embarrassed?) before, so he couldn't help but sit up a little straighter as he went on in a hushed tone: "I, um, I have a little sister and... I want to set a good example, I guess."

Oh.

Josh wanted to say "well, you haven't been doing all that great of a job, hotshot," but he put his bitterness aside for the time being and murmured, "By 'not doing so good,' do you mean failing?"

Tyler fiddled with his sweatshirt string, face a shade of pink Josh hadn't even knew existed. "Maybe."

"You should probably start with not mouthing off to every single teacher you come into contact with." Okay, he couldn't help that little jab. "Stop being a dick to your Economics' teacher, maybe?"

"What? How would that bring my grade up?" Tyler growled, but looked intrigued nonetheless.

"Oh, I don't know," Josh drawled out sarcastically. "I'm not sure being a general smartass to the guy who teaches the class you're failing will get you extra points, but hey, who am I to assume that? I'm just the stupid fairy who has all A's, right?"

And all of the sudden, Tyler had nothing to say; he leaned back in his chair with a subdued expression.

 _Good_ , Josh thought sourly, picking his book back up. _Let the little prick think about that for awhile_.

 

"Josh? Hey, wait up!"

Josh sighed as he heard the approaching sound of Nike's against the hallway floor.

And then Tyler Joseph was trotting along at his side, looking like he had just won the lottery.

Great.

"Josh, you'll never believe it, it's incredible, you're a fucking lifesaver-"

He patiently waited for the source of his aggravation to stop rambling before mumbling out, "Slow down. Where are your little friends, anyway?"

"I- oh, they're back there somewhere, I just needed to tell you-"

"Hey, Ty, why're you talking to the homo? C'mon, let's head to third period," a gruff voice shouted; Tyler faltered, glancing back at where the words had come from.

Josh jerked his head towards Tyler's impatient friend with a little sigh. "Go on, then. That's your cue."

"No, but I-" Unfinished sentences and a frustrated little growl when the brusque calling of his name continued. "Fuck, I-"

"Tyler! Get the fuck over here, dude! You trying to get AIDS?"

"If you have something to say, you can tell me when your fuckboy buddies aren't around to degrade me, Joseph," Josh muttered, turning away and stalking off into the clogged hallway.

Staring after him helplessly, Tyler mumbled a sharp "dammit" before swinging around and joining his- friends? Was that even the right word?

A hand came down on his back, leaving a persistent sting and making him grimace. "Jesus, Tyler, no point in wasting your time with Dun. The guy's a total queer."

"I..." He trailed off weakly, worrying at the inside of his cheek. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

As he was herded to third period, he couldn't help but wonder how Josh would've reacted to learning that he had gotten above a seventy-five on his Economics test.

 

Josh was, in a word, angry at himself. Because why did he even bother with Tyler Joseph, of all people?

And he had promised himself that he wouldn't have anything to do with him or his asshole friends, but here he was, feeling genuinely hurt over not getting to hear what Tyler had to say.

 _Stupid,_ he thought to himself as he slunk down the hallway, books clutched close to his chest. _So stupid of you._

As if someone like Joseph would actually give a damn about the quiet gay kid with his mess of brown hair and NASA t-shirts.

Honestly.

Before he could sink any further into self-pity, someone was grabbing his arm and he was being dragged off to the boy's bathroom.

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.

He yelped in bewilderment, though the words "what the hell?" died in his throat when he found dark eyes staring at him; they were instead replaced with, "Jesus, Joseph, what's your problem?"

"I never got to tell you what I was going to yesterday," Tyler reminded him all in one breath, smiling a small smile.

Josh blinked, lips parted a little in disbelief. He had assumed that Tyler would just decide to not bother telling him whatever it was, or forget altogether. "No longer afraid of getting AIDS, I take it?"

"I- what? No, I never, I..." Tyler faltered, feeling his shoulders slump as he visibly deflated. "Fuck. Never... Never mind. I should just go, I know you don't particularly like me- and for, for good reason-"

But this time it was Josh curling his fingers around Tyler's arm as he turned to leave. "Just tell me, Tyler."

He stopped, stealing a surprised glance from Josh's hand to his prompting eyes before the smile returned to his face. "I just wanted to say that I got a B on my Economics test. First good grade I've gotten in that class, and I owe it to you."

The corners of Josh's mouth twitched into the beginning of a grin. "Come on, all I did was tell you to stop being such a dick."

"Exactly. As it turns out, when you're not busy fucking around, you actually get a chance to pay attention," Tyler chuckled with a shy shrug. "Who knew?"

"Yeah, well, you're welcome or something," Josh snorted, but he was smiling as he said it. "That all you wanted to say?"

"No." Teeth flashed in the shitty bathroom lighting. "I like your t-shirt."

It was sarcasm-free and left Josh speechless as he watched the door swing shut with a stupid look on his face and a soft "oh."

 _Oh_.

 

The first time Tyler waved at him, Josh had stopped dead in his tracks in order to glance around and make sure it was actually meant for him, of all people.

As it turns out, it was, and he waved back shyly with a coy little smile.

Keep in mind that Tyler's friends were right there at the time, and they were beside themselves with distress when Josh loped off; Tyler grinned after him, and that was the last straw for the others.

"Great. What'd he do, turn you queer? Or was that just out of pity?"

Tyler's eyebrows furrowed, and he felt something boil hot in his stomach. "And by _that_ you mean..?"

"You know." Crude hand gestures. "The waving. Should we be concerned? You know we don't wanna hang around any fags."

"Come on, don't be a dick," Tyler snapped coldly, teeth gritting together. The same thing Josh had told him.

"I'm not being a dick," came the grossly innocent reply. "Just being reasonable. So, I'll ask again: should we be concerned?"

"What you _should_ be concerned about is me beating your ass if you don't shut the hell up and mind your own damn business." The fire burning steady in his gut was bubbling up his throat and escaping his mouth in the form of sharp tones and clipped words. "Got it?"

"Oh, sure, we've got it." Eyes narrowed and the corners of lips tightened dangerously. "We understand."

"Good. I don't have time for this bullshit." With one last hellfire glare, he broke away from the group and veered off down the hallway, well aware of the eyes burning into the back of his head all the while.

 

Now, Josh had been called a number of things - homo, fairy, gay boy, fag(got), queer, flamer, light in the loafers, nancy boy (to name a few) - but he had never been punched in the face by whoever happened to be saying any of the above.

Apparently, there's a first for everything.

Because there were hands gripping the collar of his t-shirt, and he was dizzy from being slammed against the metal of the lockers.

There was an awful buzzing bouncing around in his head, but the questions being spat at him were worse.

"What's your problem, Dun? Think you can just drag Tyler down with you? Turn him into some cock-sucking waste of space? Huh?" When Josh simply squirmed and coughed and stared with dark eyes round and terrified, another pair of hands came to assist the first; fingers wound around his throat, nails digging into his skin- not enough to suffocate him, but enough to make him think that that was the next step. "Well, girlyboy? So used to having a dick in your mouth that you forgot how to talk?"

"I- I didn't do anything-" Josh choked out desperately, surrendering in his struggle to wriggle free as the grip on his neck tightened with each movement. "I swear, I don't know-"

"Bullshit." The eyes burning into his own were boiling with hate; beyond reason. "What, are you gonna call for Tyler? Because he's your little faggot boyfriend now, right? Just like you've always wanted? Well, that's where you're wrong, Dun, because no friend of ours is going to play cock hockey with anyone, let alone a pussy like you."

That's when the first punch landed, drilling into his stomach and making him cough and choke and jolt; the next one was worse- knuckles collided with his face, fast and hard and not missing a beat.

The sting left behind was nothing compared to the pain branded into his insides.

They left him then: the hands at his collar and throat retreated, and he was stumbling and teetering and watching them walk away, nodding and grinning at each other all the while.

And he felt sick.

He dragged himself away on legs made of shivers and shredded pride; he vaguely remembered blundering past a door and finding himself looking in a mirror that clearly hadn't been cleaned in years.

His reflection was muddled, but he could pick out a patch of yellowing skin just below his left eye.

He lifted his Star Wars t-shirt with quivering hands. His stomach looked the same: the ugly, shameful beginnings of a bruise blooming across his underbelly.

And to think he was standing in the same room where Tyler Joseph had smiled at him and said,

_"I like your t-shirt."_

Stupid. He was just so stupid.

 

Tyler scampered after a familiar head of dark, curly hair, enthusiasm multiplying with each step.

"Josh? Josh, wait up!"

He did not wait up, but that was okay, because Tyler was moving fast enough to upstage an Olympic runner.

That's how excited he was to see Josh.

"Josh, I... You okay, man?" he inquired uneasily when he earned troubling silence in response. He peered at him worriedly, but the only eye contact Josh seemed capable of was with the floor. "Josh..?"

That was when Josh raised his head to meet his eyes; there were tears brewing in his own.

Tyler's heart was sitting heavy in his stomach by the time he mustered the words to speak again: "What- oh my god, Josh, I- what the fuck happened?"

Josh inhaled sharply, allowing Tyler to raise a gentle hand and ghost his fingertips against the discolored skin.

The shock eventually passed, and the empty space it left behind was swamped with senseless anger: "Who the fuck did this? Who hit you? I swear to god, I'll return the fucking favor-"

"Tyler." When the bitter rambling continued, Josh tried again, louder: " _Tyler_."

The flow of violent words slowed to a halt.

"It doesn't matter, okay? I'll be fine."

"Of course it matters," Tyler insisted, voice softening a bit as he went on. "If someone's been giving you bruises like this, I... Just tell me who did it, Josh."

Silence.

"Please. I won't be stupid, I promise, I just need to know-"

_"Think you can just drag Tyler down with you?"_

"Josh, did they- did they hit you anywhere else?"

He gestured numbly to his stomach, and then Tyler was guiding him to the men's bathroom by the hand.

The minute the door swung shut behind them, Josh's shirt was being lifted so Tyler could examine the extent of the damage; the painfully whispered _"oh my god"_ that followed caused the injured boy's eyes to fall shut defeatedly.

"Josh, I- did you get this checked out at all? By anyone? This looks... oh, fuck, you must be in so much fucking pain and I- you need to tell me, okay? Who did this to you?"

"S'not important," Josh insisted weakly again, but he felt dizzy and his bones were aching down to the marrow and the look on Tyler's face was almost too much to bear.

"Josh. Josh, look at me." Their fingers were webbed together, anchoring him there. "Just tell me. Please?"

But all he could think about was how selfish telling the truth would be. These were Tyler's friends, weren't they? And learning that it had been their hands that had left the ugly, sallow marks behind might destroy him- destroy everything.

"Josh?"

A deep breath.

And he waited for the utmost hurt to cross Tyler's face as he listed off the culprits, one by one.

The hurt did come, but it was so brief that if you blinked, you'd miss it.

The anger, on the other hand, wasn't that hard to miss.

Tyler's hands trembled with his blood-boiling fury, and he had to step back and remind himself to _breathe_ , to think.

But there was just so much choler clogging his insides, and Josh said his name three times before he responded.

"I'm walking you to the nurse." The words were quiet, unreadable; he held out a hand for Josh to take. "Come on."

 

Josh was sent home.

The pain made it difficult for him to walk or move, let alone concentrate on schoolwork.

Tyler couldn't help but smile a little at the thought of how much he would complain over missing even a moment of his classes, going on and on about how he would be behind- even when he was leaps ahead of it all anyway.

 _Nerd,_ Tyler thought as he slunk down the hallway, though it was a fond thought, not a degrading one.

His warm little smile faltered as he neared his destination, while his feet didn't hesitate once.

They all turned to look at him: raised chins and eyebrows, taut muscles, arms folded across chests.

"Heard what you did," he stated simply, not planning on giving them the satisfaction of making a scene. That's not what Josh would want in the first place.

"Yeah?" snorted the one that had put his hands around Josh's neck. "What, did your little pussy of a friend go crying to you like the whiny bitch he is?"

Tyler felt his teeth grit together, and he breathed in sharply. "Can I just ask what Josh Dun ever did to any of you?"

"Hey, we were doing you a _favor_ ," snapped another. "It's not like we're gonna let one of our friends be turned into a-"

"That's where you're wrong," he cut him off sharply. "Because I'm _not_ your friend, from now on. Hell, I'm not even your acquaintance. Because if you so much as look wrong at me or my- my boyfriend again, I'll beat your ass black-and-blue. Got it?"

A beat of silence. And then, "Boyfriend, huh?"

"I- yeah. Yeah, I think so. I hope so."

"Okay, then, Joseph." A small, indifferent shrug. "If that's how it's gotta be, that's how it's gotta be."

"That's right." He nodded curtly, a little of the tension melting from his shoulders; relief took its place. "Just how it's gotta be."

And as he turned to be on his way, he heard one of them murmur, "Good luck."

 

The first thing he did when school let out was drive to Josh's place (and struggle to stay under the speed limit the entire time.)

Luckily, Mrs. Dun seemed to respect his urgency and showed him right to where her son was curled up on his bed, the Star Wars sheets strewn carelessly around him and ice packs wrapped in towels against his bruised spots.

"You can stay for as long as you want," she had assured him before smiling in a knowing way and leaving him to fuss over the quiet gay kid with his mess of brown hair and NASA t-shirts that he most definitely gave a damn about.

Now more than ever.

The first thing Josh did when Tyler settled down beside him was struggle to sit up, grimacing all the while- but he was gently eased back down and told that it was fine, that _"I don't want you hurting any more than you already are, okay?"_

He reluctantly agreed, but there was no reluctance in his voice when he grinned up at Tyler and said, "I'm s'happy to see you."

And Tyler's heart melted like candle wax that dripped into his organs and turned it all into one big, tender mess.

"I'm happy to see you, too," he murmured softly, smiling back with sincerity shining true on each tooth. "How are you doing? Does it hurt a lot?"

"Not really. At least, not as much as it used to," Josh clarified, gesturing to the ice packs. "These help a lot. Numb the pain a little."

"That's good. Glad you're doing better." Tyler reached out to brush a few stray curls away from his forehead, tucking them back into the rest of the dark mess. "Nice Star Wars sheets, by the way."

"I'm not sure if that was sarcasm or not, but either way: thank you. I take great pride in these sheets," Josh announced with a grin that was the equivalent of an arrow through Tyler's already-in-shambles heart. "I also take great pride in the numerous Star Trek posters on my walls."

"God, you're such a _nerd_ ," Tyler groaned, but he was smiling as he said it; he webbed their fingers together with care, and the glorious, flustered pink of Josh's face overpowered the black-and-blue of his injuries by a long-shot. 

"A cute nerd, though?" Josh inquired hopefully, and Tyler's smile grew tooth by tooth.

"Just the cutest."

And to confirm as such, Tyler kissed him right on the nose, soft and sweet and turning the pink to a bashful red.

So, yeah, Josh Dun knew a lot of things.

There are one-hundred-eighteen ridges on a dime. There are ten-billion galaxies and in those galaxies are one-hundred-billion stars. The core of the Sun is twenty-seven-million degrees Fahrenheit.

And Tyler Joseph loved him more than numbers could calculate.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> anyway it's two a.m. but i'd like to both blame and praise jshlr on tumblr for sucking me into the glorious hell that is nerd!josh and fuckboy!tyler. i am destroyed. thanks for that.


End file.
